


Room for Two

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Hanners is not having that, Jack cockblocks Hanners, M/M, Oh no! There's only two beds!, Prompt Fic, Will just...wants to get some damn sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 07:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17524109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: Everything is going exactly as Hannibal planned. He, Jack, and Will are forced off the road and must stop for the night at a motel - where there are only two beds.Unfortunately, Jack decides that he and Will are going to bunk up, giving Dr. Lecter the nice single bed.This...is not part of Hannibal's plan. But Dr. Lecter has never been afraid of a little improvisation.





	Room for Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FhimeChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FhimeChan/gifts).



> This is a prompt from the lovely fhimechan who asked: 
> 
>  
> 
> _I'll try the prompts lottery, since you offered! :D Prompt: S1 or S2 Hannibal manipulating the events so that after a crime scene they need to stop somewhere to sleep and there are only two rooms - single bed and double one. The plan backfires when Jack insists for sharing the bed with Will. What will Hannibal do? Thank you anyway, and I really really love your writing!!!!!_
> 
>  
> 
> This...turned into UTTER crack. It's basically a farce. I wish I could tell you I'm surprised, but it's me, so...
> 
> Also, as always, thank you to Gwilbers for being the best beta ever!

          Tampering with Jack’s tires had been easier than Hannibal had imagined. He palmed two screws from the crime scene when Jack and Will were debating whether this latest body was the work of the Ripper or not.

          It wasn’t, Hannibal would have never been so gauche as to sexually assault someone and the artistry of the layout definitely left something to be desired. The doctor had smiled when Will threw a fit, yelling at Jack that the Ripper would never force themselves upon a victim. He had looked so righteously angry, snarling about Jack wasting his and Hannibal’s time on some lesser killer.

          “Why are you in charge of Behavioral Sciences, Jack? Remember the weirdo at the gas station down the road? THIS IS CLEARLY HIS KILL!” Will spun gesturing to the lump of flesh. “To think that the Ripper would be so base, so without…taste. Are you out of your-”

          “ARE YOU DEFENDING THE GODDAMN RIPPER?”

          Will had faltered then, looking at Hannibal oddly for a moment before shaking his head, his shoulders hunching. “N-no, just, this isn’t him. The Ripper works in oils, this guy is smashing Play Dough.”

          Jack squinted, “I’m sorry this guy doesn’t live up to the Ripper’s brilliance.”

          Will ducked his head, sullenly muttering, “It’s just clearly not him, OK?”

          Hannibal had felt a glow in his chest as he pocketed the two screws left at the crime scene. He let Will and Jack huff and puff, his sensitive ears occasionally picking up phrases like _lackluster attempt_ and _pale imitation_ as he strode to Jack’s car. It took very little time to pierce the tires, just the barest amount of pressure with his foot and two steady leaks were draining the tires on the driver’s side of the rental.

          Taking out his phone, Hannibal googled low budget motels in the vicinity. The tire was losing air rapidly, Hannibal did a few calculations in his head and picked a cheap-looking motel about 20 miles from the scene. He dialed their number.

          “Hello? Is this the Sleep Easy Inn?” Hannibal smiled. “Yes, how are you? How many rooms do you have available today? Thirty-one? Yes, I’d like to book 29 of those, please, including every room that has two beds in it.”

          The doctor pulled out his credit card while the clerk sputtered confusion at the request.

* * *

 

          Will Graham had never been predictable. Usually, Hannibal rather admired a mind he couldn’t easily manipulate, but this evening, Will was getting on his last damn nerve.

          The car had become undriveable about 20 miles from the crime scene. Jack had pulled off the slick roads only to curse that he had one spare and two flats. They had ventured a scant half mile to a local shoddy motel that boasted free cable and a rather disreputable looking pool, only to find that all but two rooms were booked. Jack had grumbled about the fact that they had three people and only a full and a queen-sized bed to use for the night. It was all going according to plan.

          …until it wasn’t.

          “Looks like you get to steal me from Bella, tonight, huh Will?” Jack said, slapping the empath on the back jovially.

          Will raised an eyebrow and sighed, but nodded. “I sleep on the right.”

          Jack laughed.

          Frowning, Hannibal took a step forward. “If I may, I think it might be better if Will slept in my room, Jack.”

          “Why’s that, Hannibal?”

          “Yeah,” Will cocked his head, eyes dancing as he peered over Jack’s shoulder. “Why’s that?”

          Hannibal’s jaw tightened as he regarded Will, but he carefully schooled his expression into his best, neutral psychiatrist face. “Will suffers from somnambulism, night terrors, and night sweats. As a medical professional, I think-”

          “I think I can handle keeping Will in bed.” Jack turned to look Will up and down. “He weighs about a buck 20 soaking wet, I’m pretty sure I can take him if I need to, doctor.”

          Hannibal took a deep soothing breath. He pictured driving his embossed fountain pen through Jack’s carotid artery and felt himself calming. “Yes indeed, but I may be more equipped to handle any mental concerns that may arise.”

          “You want to handle what… arises?” Will asked. Hannibal couldn’t see his face, but squinted at the tone. He could almost picture the little twist at the edge of Will’s mouth.

          “No offence, Hannibal, but you’ve been seeing Will for almost a year and a half and in that time, he’s been committed and attempted to kill you.”

          “We measure progress differently on all patients-”

          “Still,” Jack patted Hannibal’s shoulder. The doctor envisioned breaking every bone in that heavy appendage. “I think this is for the best. We don't want Will trying to kill you again, at least, not until we get home.”

          “Yeah,” offered Will, stepping from behind Jack. Now, Hannibal could clearly see the amusement in the empath’s expression. “I’d hate to wake up in the middle of the night and find myself on top of you.”

          An image of Will, naked but for boxer shorts straddling him while he slowly squeezed the life from Hannibal popped into the doctor’s head. His cock gave a desperate twitch at the notion. Hannibal straightened slightly, confident his overcoat would hide any unsightly bulges in his trousers. “Have a restful evening gentlemen.”

          He ignored Will’s smile as he walked to his room.

* * *

 

          The room was as expected. Every surface seemed to be bathed in a yellowing brown color, from the faded floral wallpaper that Hannibal could only assume was once white to the bedding which was beige plaid that smelled of old semen and bleach. Hannibal debated where to put his coat before grabbing one of the threadbare towels from the bathroom and wiping down the dusty, chipped dresser along the far wall of the room.

          After taking off his jacket, Hannibal assessed his room, smiling when he came up with a plan.

* * *

 

          Will answered on the second knock. The empath didn’t smile, but something amused flickered in his eyes as he regarded Hannibal in the doorway. “Jack, we have company.”

          Opening the door to allow Hannibal in, Will crossed his arms and leaned on the doorjamb, waiting. Jack emerged from the bathroom in his undershirt and slacks. “Dr. Lecter! I didn’t know you made house calls.”

          Hannibal smiled politely. “I’m afraid I’m the one with the ailment, the electric in my room seems to be on the fritz.”

          Hannibal stepped back to the doorway and gestured to his room across the motel courtyard. The lights were flickering badly, throwing the windows in and out of shadow as they wavered.

          “Shit. Go turn them off so you don’t start a fire and Will and I can see about making room for you in our ro-”

          “I’ll take a look.”

          Hannibal turned to look at Will. “That’s not necessary.”

          Will shrugged. “What else am I doing? Let me grab my shoes and I’ll come take a look at the lights, see if I can fix it.”

          “I’d hate to trouble you.”

          “Jack? Can you live without me for 10 minutes?”

          Jack smiled. “I’ll go with you. See if I can help. I did all the wiring for our garage door.”

          Before Hannibal could formulate an answer, both men were walking past him and toward his motel room door.

* * *

 

          “What kind of weirdo unscrews all the light bulbs in a room so they flicker?” Jack asked as he dealt with the bulbs in the ceiling fan.

          “Someone sad with a lot of time on their hands.” Will glanced at Hannibal as he fixed the bedside lamp. “Kinda feel sorry for someone that pathetic.”

          “I’m sorry to have troubled you for such an easy fix,” Hannibal said, jaw tight. “It didn’t occur to me to-”

          “It’s alright, Doc. It was an easy fix and now I get to sleep soundly with the knowledge that you’re safe and sound in your own bed.” Will smiled wide and toothy.

          Jack clapped his hands. “Speaking of, time to hit the hay?”

          Will nodded, following Jack out of the room. He paused at the doorway. “Pleasant dreams, Dr. Lecter.”

          The second the door closed, Hannibal stood. The message was clear, Will Graham was not going to be fooled by parlor tricks. Hannibal felt something warm spread through his chest. If Will Graham wanted a challenge, he’d give him one.

* * *

 

          Though Hannibal’s hobbies had necessitated a certain familiarity with power tools, plumbing had never been a particular interest to him. This fact probably accounted for Hannibal spraying himself in the face three times before successfully getting the shower head off the ancient fixture in the bathroom.

          Still, he managed to get the shower head off and pull out a small but essential looking ring. When he reassembled the shower and turned it on, water sprayed everywhere. Deciding his wet hair and face would lend authenticity to his appearance, Hannibal threw on his overcoat and strolled back across the motor court to Jack and Will’s room.

* * *

 

          “Your shower’s broken?” Jack was in boxer shorts and his undershirt. He looked quite tired. “What are the chances of that and the light thing?”

          “Yeah,” Hannibal looked at Will, who, he noted, was still fully clothed and sitting in the dingy chair. It was almost as if he was waiting for something. “What are the chances?”

          Hannibal ignored Will, turning to Jack. “May I impose upon you to use your shower and perhaps spend the ni-”

          “I’ll take a look,” Will walked right past Hannibal into the night.

* * *

 

          Hannibal tried not to look too smug when Will admitted he couldn’t fix the shower without a gasket. He felt considerably less smug when Will called the front desk and somehow managed to gain access to a box of tools and a spare gasket. The repair was finished in a matter of minutes and the shower ran beautifully, albeit encased in mildew-infested walls.

          It wasn’t the second defeat that burned hot in Hannibal’s chest, nor was it the knowledge that Will had once again surprised him. What made Hannibal’s blood boil and his skin itch was the tiny little smile quirking the corner of Will’s mouth as the empath patted him on the shoulder and told him to _sleep tight_.

          Hannibal Lecter had been judged not once, but twice by Will Graham and found wanting. That simply would not do. There must be some way to outsmart his clever little mongoose. Hannibal resolved that he wouldn’t sleep until he found it.

          Thirty minutes later, Hannibal had the plastic cover off of the heating and cooling unit, pulling at the wires. He couldn’t wait to see how Will fixed three stripped wires and one missing one. Hannibal doubted there’d be a spare coil of electrical wire in the shabby toolbox he’d found. It was while he was prematurely celebrating his victory that the sparks began.

          Hannibal would maintain, for years to come, that though he may have technically caused the sparks by rubbing the wires together, the curtains should not have so easily ignited. Obviously this motel did not have fire retardant materials around the windows, which would have been clearly outlined in the Minnesota Fire Code. Still, the spark did fly, and the curtains did ignite – followed by a large portion of the ceiling and the carpet.

          The doctor had just enough time to grab his overcoat and briefcase before the bed caught and breathing became an impossibility. He tried to keep his gait relaxed as he walked across the motor court again to rap on Jack and Will’s door.

          Will threw the door open on the second knock, still dressed and still smiling. “Let me guess, there’s a pea under your mattres-JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!”

          The empath was looking wide-eyed over Hannibal’s shoulder at the inferno that used to be room number nine. Hannibal turned to follow his gaze just as the window burst from the heat of the blaze. “I believe there is something wrong with my heating unit.”

          Will’s eyes slowly moved from the flames to the man before him.

          “Jack?” He called over his shoulder. “Call 911. I’m going to work on getting the people out of the building.”

* * *

 

          It took the firemen about 30 minutes to navigate the icy back roads. By the time the truck pulled up, the entire motel was engulfed in flames. Evidently, every flammable material in the state of Minnesota was used to manufacture the motel. The owner/manager was excitedly talking to the fire marshal about insurance checks and retiring to Mississippi where his sister had a place on the gulf.

          Hannibal and Will stood together watching the flames. The fire was large enough that the chill of the freezing weather wasn’t much of a concern. Jack, still in his undershirt, though he’d managed to find shoes, was barking orders at the firemen and the motel owner. Apparently, that was Jack’s default whenever an emergency arose.

          There was a massive _CRACK_ and Hannibal tilted his head as the roof of the motel finally caved in, sending a wave of heat their way. Will nudged him, raising an eyebrow. “You know, most people would just ask a fella out instead of burning down a motel.”

          Hannibal tightened his jaw slightly. Technically, this was Will’s fault. No one told him to fix the damn shower.

          As if he could hear Hannibal’s thoughts, Will chuckled softly. “’Course, you do have unusual taste in courting gifts.”

          Hannibal turned to see that small smile tugging at the corner of Will’s mouth. “I’m sorry?”

          “The bodies I can live with, but arson isn’t worthy of the Ripper.” Will gestured to the flames. “It’s juvenile, and a little desperate.”

          “I’m not sure what you’re insinuat-”

          Will held up a hand. “Insulting my intelligence also isn’t going to get you laid, doctor.”

          “You believe me to be the Ripper?” Hannibal shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He had insisted Will take his overcoat when the empath had begun to shiver.

          “I know you to be, yeah.”

          “And you think I burned down this motel?”

          Will nodded. “Not sure that was strictly intentional, but this has your fingerprints all over it.”

          “If I am in fact an arsonist and a serial killer,” Hannibal lifted his chin, trying for dignified even as embers blew around his hair. “Shouldn’t you be calling Jack?”

          “Why?” The quirk on Will’s lips deepened into a toothy grin. “This is a lot more fun.”

          Hannibal squinted. “You’re…enjoying this?”

          “Not so much the standing around in freezing weather because you had some cockamamie seduction plan in mind…”

          “I did not!” And even if he did, it was rude to outline the failings of others.

          Will’s head tilted. “You didn’t set this up?”

          “Of course not.”

          “So, the fact that you palmed two screws at the crime scene and two screws miraculously ended up in Jack’s tires…”

          “That is a wild assumption on your part, Will.” Hannibal sniffed. He’d been careful about palming those screws. There was no way Will could have noticed. “Are the hallucinations back?”

          “Anyone ever tell you that you get pissy when someone catches you in a lie?”

          “Perhaps I’m _pissy_ because I don’t enjoy being accused of constructing elaborate and failed seduction gambits.”

          “It’s the failed part that really gets you, isn’t it?” Will’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. After a moment, Will swept his hand before them. “Where are the other guests, then?”

          “Excuse me?”

          “There were only two rooms left in this place…necessitating bed sharing. And yet, we’re the only people standing out here.” Hannibal’s mouth pursed. Will’s eyes were dancing. “So…either everyone else chose to die on beds that smell like old sex and industrial cleaner, or we could have each gotten a room.”

          “I cannot control what this establishment’s booking policy is, Will.”

          Will let out an exasperated huff.

          “See? This shit, this is why I said I’d sleep with Jack.” Will ran a hand through his hair. “Drop another 10 bodies, burn down every motel we end up at, I’ll sleep in the fucking lobby before I let you trick me into a bed.”

          Hannibal felt something hard form in the pit of his stomach. He had though Will was enjoying the game. Had he misjudged? “I will endeavor to keep from inflicting myself upon you.”

          Will laughed. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

          “I understand that you have no interest in me.” Hannibal’s voice sounded tight to his own ears.

          “I have no interest in your I’m So Superior I Trick People into Adhering to My Will bullshit.” Will laid a hand on Hannibal’s chest. The doctor thought again of how appealing Will looked in his overcoat. “However, you get over your need to feel smarter than everyone else and just ask me to dinner, or to bed, we can talk. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see if I can sleep in the back of Jack’s car.”

          Will took off for the car, which had been moved to a darkened corner of the lot, far away from the flames. Hannibal watched the man go, a smile curling on his lips.

          “Will?”

          “Hmmm?”

          Hannibal waited for the man before him to turn fully before speaking again. “May I make you dinner when we arrive home?”

          Will squinted. “Will I be at the table or on the table?”

          Hannibal smiled. “I had planned to have you seated to my right.”

          Will nodded, moving a few steps closer. “One thing-”

          “You wish to choose the protein.”

          Will shook his head. “Not really, but I would like to choose the breakfast. I want that protein scramble you made again. I think about that almost as much as I think about you.”

          Hannibal felt a surge of warmth he was sure had nothing to do with the fire. “I am expected to serve you breakfast as well?”

          “I expect you to serve it naked.”

          Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “It may be a challenge to pour the coffee.”

          “You’ll figure it out.” Will patted Hannibal’s chest again. The doctor found he rather liked the sensation of Will’s hands upon him. Will pulled back to smile. “And if you don’t, we can always burn your house down and start again.”

          Will took off for the rental car, leaving Hannibal to smile into the flames and plan his feast.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Next Up:**  
>  I'll give y'all a choice: goofy cooking fic that is based on something stupid I actually did in the kitchen  
> -OR-  
> A shameless smut fic that involves the misuse of neckties and notes.


End file.
